Amgarrak
by LadyAshling
Summary: Zatta Brosca was recruited into the Grey Wardens by chance and now she must prove her worth to herself and an entire nation. This is the story of how she rallied her troops for battle against the Archdemon with help from an unlikely band of companions for the good of Ferelden. "Amgarrak" is dwarven for "Victory." Rated M for violence and sexual situations.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **All original characters belong to BioWare. I'm just playing in their universe.

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Duncan had rescued her in the nick of time. Zatta was nothing but a worthless Duster, a casteless, and she'd managed to insult the entire warrior caste by fighting in the Proving. Damn that stupid Everd for wandering into the arena! But…it allowed her to kill Beraht and free herself from a life of being his lackey or losing her own life to the bastard. Stone forsake him!

Now she was on the surface, at Ostagar, waiting for the Joining to begin so she could be officially admitted into the Warden's ranks. Finally, something good was about to happen in her miserable life. Rica once said that she was lucky to not use what was between her legs to get anywhere, and that may be true, but there had been times in Dust Town that she had considered it. Instead, she was listening to Duncan explain the ritual with pride and the young woman eagerly waited her turn to drink from the chalice.

When Daveth died from the tainted blood, Zatta was surprised by the sadness that panged in her chest. He'd been flirtatious and fun, another roguish street rat that Duncan saved, and she had to admit that she'd been looking forward to getting to know him better as a brother-in-arms. Of course, Ser Jory's demise was sad too, and it seemed senseless to her – even though he'd been a bit cowardly about the Grey Warden lifestyle, he was a good fighter and he would probably have adjusted in time.

With a trepidation that hadn't been weighing her down before, Zatta took the cup from Duncan and gulped quickly. The groans and flashes of darkspawn assaulted her mind immediately. She felt like a ghost, invisibly creeping through the Deep Roads tunnels, mingling around the spawn that filled the caverns of the once great dwarven thaigs. There was a malicious _presence_ that seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time…and there was music, too. A compelling song in her head that pulled her deeper into the darkness, but then the music faded and light began to filter into the deep, pulling her from the clutches of the archdemon.

Upon opening her eyes Zatta saw Duncan and Alistair leaning over her anxiously. "It is finished," sighed Duncan. "How do you feel?" The strong woman couldn't allow herself to admit that she'd been terrified and was still internally shaken by the deaths of the would-be recruits. She assured Duncan that she was fine, but part of her was certain the man saw through her brave words.

"Did you have dreams? I had terrible dreams after my Joining," shuddered the younger Warden.

Duncan glanced sidelong at Alistair before turning back to Zatta. "Such dreams come when you begin to sense the darkspawn. That and many other things can be explained in time."

"Before I forget, there is one final part of your Joining. We take some of that blood and put it into a pendant…to remind us of those who didn't make it this far." Alistair reverently passed her the vial strung on a leather thong. She took it with a trembling hand, trying to hide the sudden water building in her large, dark eyes from the men. Zatta could only nod her thanks as her throat constricted uncomfortably.

She immediately raised her arms to tie the thong around her neck, but her fingers fumbled as she trembled, which only served to embarrass her. Alistair gently stopped her as his hands took over for her and quickly secured the leather ties. He was careful to avoid touching her skin so she wouldn't think he pitied her and part of her was grateful to not feel his calloused fingers, but there was another part of her that was disappointed. "Thank you," she whispered to her companion. It was so quiet Alistair almost didn't hear it, but he nodded in acknowledgment.

"Take some time. When you are ready, I would like you to attend a meeting with me. We are to discuss the battle strategy with the King. The meeting is to the west, down the stairs." Zatta nodded quickly to Duncan before the men walked away and left her with her thoughts. She turned around and noticed that the bodies of Daveth and Jory were gone and all traces of blood had been washed off the stones. _I must have been unconscious for some time then._

Zatta closed her eyes and summoned the faces of the men she shared her Joining with. In her mind she could hear Daveth's laughter and teasing banter, she could the knight Jory as he battled darkspawn and crowed victoriously after their skirmishes. She might have known them for only a few hours, but once you've shed blood and been bloodied on the field with men-at-arms a bond is created that can never be broken. "Atrast tunsha. Totarnia amgetol tavash aeduc. Farewell, salroka."

Quickly gathering her composure and tidying her short hair the dwarf hustled down the stairs to the strategy meeting. Zatta felt a swelling of pride to be asked by her commander to attend such an important gathering. It was still strange being on the surface, where castes didn't exist and unless you were a noble, your lineage didn't matter much. She had been nothing in Orzammar – less than nothing, in fact – but here…here she could be a Grey Warden and be respected. At the very least, she wouldn't be invisible anymore.

Duncan smiled softly at her timely arrival. She caught the tail end of a disagreement between the King and his general – something about trusting the Grey Wardens too much and Orlesian forces not being required. Zatta kept her opinions to herself, but she thought they were both stupid. Cailan's insistence to fight on the front lines was suicidal and Loghain was a stubborn fool who was incapable of admitting how incredibly outnumbered they were on the field against the darkspawn. But since no one was asking her, she kept her mouth shut and listened to their strategy.

"This is the Tower of Ishal in the ruins, yes? Then who shall light this beacon," queried the King. Zatta didn't miss how Loghain's jaw worked back and forth in frustration. Obviously, they'd discussed this plan before, but the younger man seemed to forget all things that didn't really matter to him.

"I have a few men stationed there. It's not a dangerous task, but it is vital."

The King raised his eyes to Zatta and Duncan. "Then we send our best. Send Alistair and the new Grey Warden to make sure it's done."

Zatta crossed her arms and bowed slightly at the waist. "I will do my best, your Majesty." Her heart pounded rapidly as she repeated the human King's words in her mind. '_Send our best'…ha! King Endrin would never have said such a thing about me in Orzammar!_

Loghain scoffed. "You rely on these Grey Wardens too much. Is that truly wise?"

Cailan shook his head with a small sneer. "Enough of your conspiracy theories, Loghain. Grey Wardens battle the Blight; no matter where they're from."

"Your Majesty," interjected Duncan, "you should consider the possibility of the archdemon appearing."

"There have been no signs of dragons in the Wilds," refuted Loghain.

"Isn't that what your men are here for, Duncan?"

"I…yes, your Majesty," stumbled the stoic Warden. Zatta was thankful for the darkness to hide the slight color that rose to her cheeks at the King's dismissal of her commander.

The mage standing to the King's left spoke up. "Your Majesty, the tower and its beacon are unnecessary. The Circle of Magi – "

"We will not trust any lives to your spells, mage! Save them for the darkspawn!" Zatta refrained from rolling her eyes. _This is why the dwarves don't have any religion. _

"Enough," snapped Loghain. "This plan will suffice. The Grey Wardens will light the beacon." He turned his black gaze on her and Zatta glared defiantly back.

"Thank you, Loghain." Cailan smiled radiantly. "I cannot wait for that glorious moment! The Grey Wardens battle beside the King of Ferelden to stem the tide of evil."

Loghain was standing a few feet away with his back turned when he replied, "Yes, Cailan. A glorious moment for us all." There was something in Loghain's tone that set off Zatta's internal alarm. Whenever people in Orzammar used that tone or ones similar around her, it meant trouble was brewing. With a glance at Duncan and the King she could see that they were both too preoccupied with their own thoughts to notice the strangeness in Loghain's voice. Maybe she was just being paranoid – a force of habit for a girl from Dust Town.

She shrugged off the uncertainty trying to take root in her stomach as she followed Duncan to the Grey Warden tents to inform Alistair of the King's decision. "What?! I won't be in the battle," fumed Alistair.

"This is by the King's personal request, Alistair." Zatta agreed with Alistair, but then the King's words reverberated through her thoughts again. _'Send our best.' _ With a playful shove of her elbow in the human's stomach, she shrugged and smiled gently to her fellow Warden. He closed his eyes in resignation and ran his hand across his face with a sigh.

"I get it, I get it. But if the King asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line. Darkspawn or no." Zatta chuckled richly beside him, which lit a small fire in the pit of Alistair's stomach.

"I think I'd like to see that," she teased.

Alistair looked at her with a smirk. "For you, maybe, but it has to be a pretty dress." Duncan groaned and rubbed wearily at his temples as he began to walk away. "Duncan! Maker watch over you."

"May he watch over us all."

Once again, Alistair barely caught the words that fell from Zatta's lips. "Ancestors favor us. If we fall, let it be with honor as we go to the Stone's embrace. If we rise, let it be to see another battle. Amgarrak, amgetoll, amgeforn." He looked down to find Zatta's eyes closed in petition and when she opened them again, they were full of sadness. She turned to Alistair then and thrust her right arm at him. Alistair knew enough about dwarves to properly grasp her forearm as she wrapped her smaller fingers around his own arm. "Atrast tunsha, Alistair. May you always find your way in the dark."

Alistair's eyebrows skyrocketed into his perfect hair. Most dwarves would never send off a human to battle with such heartfelt conviction. He gripped her arm more tightly as he stared into her dark chocolate eyes and consciously focused on the correct pronunciation. "Atrast tunsha, Zatta." He was rewarded with a rare full smile that caused the tattoo next to her left eye to crinkle.

Duncan was watching off to the side with a small, satisfied smile. He'd been worried that Alistair wouldn't have a friend in the Order when his time came for the Calling. Yes, the young former Templar knew the other wardens, but he was the newest (until Zatta) and none of them were close in age to the lad. This would be good for him. With renewed strength, Duncan strode down to the battlefield where the army and his King were waiting.

* * *

Amgarrak - victory

Amgetoll - duty

Amgeforn - sacrifice

Atrast tunsha - "May you always find your way in the dark."

Salroka - friend (literally "one at my side")

*****All language translations found at Dragon Age Wiki wiki/Dwarves


	2. Chapter 2

Zatta released her new comrade – dare she say, friend? – and hurried to the bridge. Alistair followed behind, as the bridge was too crowded with catapults and men for them to move side by side. "We need to get to the Tower quickly," he yelled over the sounds of battle. The dwarf nodded to show she'd heard him and continued to run as fast as her shorter legs would carry her. When they made it to the opposite side of the gorge, the Wardens caught up with a soldier and a circle mage fleeing the area.

"You! Your Grey Wardens, aren't ya? The tower's been taken! Darkspawn flooded the tower from below and it's overrun."

Zatta unsheathed her weapons with a twirl of her wrist and a wicked smirk. "Well then, I think we should go say hello to the sons-of-bitches, don't you?" Alistair grinned as he pulled out his longsword and readjusted the balance of his shield. Even the terrified guard and skittish mage were heartened by her attitude and they nodded eagerly as they joined the Wardens. With a few whispered words the mage cast a flaming weapon spell and the group quickly decimated the small contingents of darkspawn outside the tower.

Being the pragmatist that she was, Zatta only looted the money and essential potions off the darkspawn corpses. Even though the weapons and armor would be worthwhile to sell later, it would only slow her down on the field. She fought in light armor with quick movements and she couldn't afford to be weighted down like a warrior or she'd be at risk of being cut down.

When they reached the tower doors Alistair barreled through them with his shield, in case any of the creatures happened to be standing behind it. He was about to keep moving forward when Zatta grabbed his arm. "Trap ahead. There is a tripwire connected to those barrels. They are probably full of oil or explosives." Alistair followed her line of sight and could barely make out the faint glint of a wire in the dim light of the tower. He was amazed how such a short, stocky woman could move with such grace and silence as she snuck through the shadows to the wire and disarmed it with ease. There had been no sign of her trembling fingers as she'd worked.

Zatta returned to the group and jerked her head behind them. "That barricade in the back looks weak. If we break through it we'll come around behind them instead of where they want us. Even though the trap is disarmed those barrels are full of oil and one fireball from either side is enough to blow us all up." The men nodded and with Alistair's sword and shield the four quickly broke through the barrier and fell upon the archers that were stationed along the back wall.

A darkspawn emissary began casting spells at the dwarf and she only laughed as she twirled behind it and backstabbed it. "Look, Alistair, it wants to die!" He glanced over as he sent an archer's head flying to see her chuckling with glee as her last blow struck home and the mage crumpled to the ground.

He bowed teasingly and indicated the corpses in the chamber. "Mistress of Death, I salute you."

"Ha! I like that…Mistress of Death." Zatta crossed her daggers in front of her body, sliding the steel edges together with a smirk. "Well, let's keep going. Don't want to keep my subjects waiting." The men shook their heads as the dwarven woman ran ahead enthusiastically. Alistair had to admit that Duncan had chosen her well – she was most happy hacking darkspawn and he made a mental note to never get on her bad side. He didn't enjoy the idea of meeting the pointy end of her ruthless blades.

The group continued to fight their way through the tower. The spawn seemed to be everywhere at once and as soon as one was cut down, three took its place. Alistair was beginning to worry for the men on the battlefield with the horde and he could see the cracks in Zatta's carefree façade as they continued to fight. He could see the slight shaking of her hands when one particularly ferocious darkspawn ran toward her, madly swinging his wicked sword, but the circle mage froze him in place and Alistair bashed the hurlock with his shield until the creature shattered. She gave him a weak smile and quickly saluted the mage before running up the final set of stairs.

Everyone froze in horror when they entered the large chamber to find a massive ogre feasting on something. The massive beast stood and roared, covering them all in its putrid spittle, and then rushed them. Zatta flew sideways and rolled out of the way, hopping up in a crouch to the right of the creature. Alistair was hacking at the ogre's ankles and the mage was using an electricity spell, but their archer was a lost cause in the hands of the beast. It crushed him and threw him across the chamber.

"AMGARRAK!" The sudden bellow caught the ogre's attention, but he was too slow for the rogue. She ran at the massive darkspawn and launched herself in the air. Her daggers sank easily into its hide with deadly force and in a few quick stabs up the ogre's back Zatta reached the vulnerable neck and jammed both blades to the hilt where the jugular would be. It roared and fell back, but her lightening reflexes launched her into a backflip off the ogre into another roll. Alistair was amazed to see that when she popped out of her roll, she was holding a third dagger at the ready. But it wouldn't be necessary, the ogre was dead and they were alive to light the beacon.

"Go," she told a gobsmacked Alistair as she reached the darkspawn and began wrenching her blades from its flesh. With a brusque nod the other Warden quickly tossed the logs in the fireplace and the mage cast a powerful fire spell to send the flames exploding out of the tower. Zatta sighed and tried to calm her nerves. They had not failed in their duty and they were still alive to fight another day. _Thank the Ancestors._

It seemed her words came too soon, however, as a flood of darkspawn poured into the tower chamber and she was struck with a volley of arrows. The dwarf barely registered her body slamming against the floor or the screams of the mage and the weak rasps of pain from her fellow Warden. Then all went black.

* * *

_Come to us…come join us in the dark. Your ancestors don't live in the Stone, but we do…we will be your Paragons…let us be your family._

_ Join us, sister of the Stone. _

_ Join usssss…_

_ The music was beautiful – perfect – it sang to her and called her to go deeper in the depths. As her feet took her farther into the darkness, she could feel the clammy touch of…something. It was soft and squishy and it reeked of death, but she was drawn to it, nonetheless. The darkspawn brushed her arms and legs, lovingly, reverently, as she passed by them – she felt like a living goddess among the filth of the Deep Roads. _

_Yes, young one. I will take you and make you mine…come, come closer. Come and see what you will become…_

_ The ground was slick with damp, but as she rounded a corner in the road a pale light diffused the antechamber. A monstrous gray creature with teats on its belly and huge tentacles sat enthroned among the fleshy sacs along the wall and stone floor. When she looked at its face, Zatta screamed and fell on her knees. "Rica! No, no, no, no…"_

_Yes! You have joined our cause, sister of the Stone. Take your place among us._

_ The archdemon's head appeared from the darkness and blasted her with purple dragonfire._

* * *

Gasping, Zatta opened her eyes to see a wooden roof above her head, instead of stonewalls. She violently threw off the bed sheets that were tangled around her body and stuck to her clammy skin.

"Ah, your eyes finally open. Mother will be pleased."

Zatta's swallowed the startled gasp that nearly escaped her in discovering she wasn't alone. Her rich brown eyes met the eerie golden orbs of the witch when she found her voice. "Morrigan…where am I? What happened to the darkspawn?"

The other woman regarded her carefully. "Mother rescued you. Do you not remember?" Zatta shook her head and tried not to think of the dream she'd had. "Mother saved you from the darkspawn. The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field. Those he left behind were massacred. Your friend…he is not taking it well."

Zatta hung her head in shame. So, she'd been right about Loghain. She should have said something to Duncan…but he probably wouldn't have believed her anyway. "Everyone? The Grey Wardens, the King…were there no other survivors?"

Morrigan shrugged. "Maybe a few stragglers or scouts in the Wilds managed to escape, but they won't be able to get far."

The dwarf looked at the witch and hated her for being so beautiful and so heartless at the same time. "I will go see your Mother."

"She is outside by the fire. I will stay and make something to eat." Morrigan moved to the fire and stirred the contents of a large cauldron hanging over the hearth. Zatta saw her armor on a chair in the corner, newly cleaned and oiled to keep it from getting stiff.

"Thank you for your help, Morrigan." The witch started at her words.

"I – you're welcome, though Mother did most of the work. I am no healer." She noticed the dwarf's fresh armor as she buckled up the leather pieces. "As to your armor, you should thank your other Grey Warden."

Zatta paused in her buckling and reached for the pendant at her throat. "Its just the two of us now." With a small smile she looked at Morrigan again. "Still, thank you, for keeping watch over me. I am grateful." Morrigan watched her curiously as she sheathed her daggers and walked out the door of the hut.

The sunlight reflecting off the pond was so bright Zatta had to cover her eyes to give them time to adjust. There was no telling how long she'd been unconscious, but she gathered it to be a couple of days if her stiff muscles were any indication. Alistair was standing beside the pond, facing the road, back stiff as stone and Zatta's stomach flip-flopped at the sight of him.

"See? Here is your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much, young man," spoke the older witch.

Alistair turned and his face lit up. "You? I thought you were dead, for sure."

Zatta shook her head. "Nope, still here, thanks to Morrigan's mother."

The man looked at her sadly. "This doesn't seem real. They're all dead…Duncan, the King. If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead too."

"Do not talk about me as if I am not present, boy," glowered the older woman.

"I-I'm sorry, but what do we call you? You never told us your name."

The witch shrugged. "Names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind call me Flemeth, I suppose it will do."

"**The** Flemeth? Daveth was right, you're the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?"

Flemeth scoffed. "Does it matter? I know a bit of magic and it has served you both well, has it not?"

Zatta stepped in before Alistair's Templar training got them killed. "Thank you for saving us, Flemeth, but why did you do it?"

"We cannot have all the Grey Wardens die when there is a Blight to stop."

"We need to deal with Loghain. Why would he do this," demanded Alistair.

"Now that is a good question. Perhaps he believes that the Blight is something he can outmaneuver and he doesn't see the real threat behind it."

Alistair and Zatta shared a meaningful glance. She swallowed nervously when the dream returned unbidden to her mind, but she kept her emotions under control and rejoined the conversation.

"What we need is an army," mused Zatta wearily. Alistair turned to her excitedly.

"Of course! We have the treaties that oblige the Dalish elves, the dwarves of Orzammar, and the Circle of Magi to aid us during a Blight! And Arl Eamon, Cailan's uncle, was not on the battlefield, which means he still has all his men. I know him – he's a good man and highly respected. He's sure to help us."

"I may be old, but dwarves, elves, mages, this Arl Eamon and who knows what else – that sounds like an army to me," said Flemeth.

"So, can we do this? Gather an army?"

Zatta gave Alistair her brilliant smile. "Of course. Isn't that what Grey Wardens do?"

Flemeth seemed pleased as she rocked back and forth on her heels. "You're all set then? Ready to be Grey Wardens?"

"Thank you again, Flemeth."

"No, no, thank you. I do have one more gift I can offer you before you go." Morrigan appeared at that moment to announce that the stew was ready. "The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly, girl and you will be joining them."

"Such a shame – what?!" Morrigan sneered at her mother's suggestion and Alistair stiffened next to Zatta. "Mother…this was not how I wanted this! I'm not even ready!"

"You must be ready. These Grey Wardens need you, Morrigan."

The raven-haired witch hung her head in resignation and Zatta almost felt sorry for her – almost. She was pretty sure that this suggestion was not completely for their benefit; it was too conveniently timed with their rescue on top of the tower and the way Morrigan spoke to her mother tipped Zatta off to a hidden agenda between the witches. However, Flemeth _was_ right – they needed a mage in their party and Morrigan knew the Wilds so she could sneak them around the horde.

"I think it's an excellent idea."

Morrigan threw up her hands. "Allow me to get my things, if you please."

"Not to…look a gift horse in the mouth, but is this such a good idea? Outside of the Wilds, she's an apostate."

Flemeth bristled at Alistair. "If you do not want help from us illegal mages, perhaps I should have left you on that tower!"

Alistair had the decency to look abashed. "Point taken." When Morrigan and Flemeth were preoccupied with throwing their verbal daggers at each other, he leaned down and whispered, "Are you sure we should take her along, just because her mother says so?"

Zatta shook her head. "I don't trust either of them, but we do need all the help we can get right now and without her, we'll probably never get out of these woods. Either the darkspawn will find us and kill us or we'll wander in circles for days and die of thirst."

He sighed wearily. "You're right. Let's just be careful around her." Morrigan jerked her head, indicating that the Wardens should follow her.

"I suggest we head for a small village on the edge of the Wilds named Lothering. It will be a good place to stock up on items and news while you two decide where we should go next." The Wardens nodded in agreement and followed the witch through the woods in silence.


	3. Chapter 3

The trio trudged wearily through the Wilds for two days before they finally reached the edges of the woods. However, it was the last couple of days spent avoiding the main roads and camping in open clearings that really unnerved the Wardens. Morrigan shape shifted into her wolf form one evening and eavesdropped on a small farmer's house to gather information. When she'd returned to tell the others that the Wardens were being blamed for the fall of the King's army, Alistair had been livid and withdrew even more into himself, but Zatta wasn't surprised. Loghain obviously detested their Order and he was savvy enough to know that the people would want someone to blame for Ostagar – who better than the Grey Wardens?

Of course, it made travel in broad daylight through open fields a bad idea. But they didn't have any choice. It was this or take the main roads where they were sure to be captured and dragged to Denerim to face "justice" in the traitor's court. When they finally reached Lothering Zatta breathed a sigh of relief to find that this village was in the shadow of the Blight and would surely be devoid of Loghain's men. As the group stood on a small rise on the road leading into the picturesque village, Alistair spoke for the first time in two days.

"Ah, Lothering, pretty as a painting." He smiled faintly at the view and Zatta breathed a sigh of relief to see her companion coming around.

"So, you've finally decided to rejoin us. Falling on your sword in grief seemed like too much trouble, I take it," goaded Morrigan.

Alistair turned to her angrily. "Is my being upset so difficult for you to imagine? Just what would you do if your mother died?"

"Before or after I stopped laughing?"

He sneered dismissively. "Riiiight, very creepy. Anyway, I wanted to ask where we intended to go next. Have you looked at the treaties?"

"Yes, I have. Though I have no idea how to track down a bunch of wandering elves and I plan to avoid Orzammar for a little longer." Alistair gave her a searching look, but didn't question her words.

"Well, at least we know where to find the mages and Arl Eamon. I assume if we travel to the Brecilian Forest we'd run into a group of Dalish eventually, but it's up to you where we head next."

Zatta looked at the handsome man curiously. "Why are you leaving it up to me? I know practically nothing about the surface world."

Alistair blushed and waved his hands around frantically. "Well, I don't know where we should go! I'm leaving it up to you – I'll follow whatever you decide." Morrigan laughed derisively at the man. "Shut it, witch," he growled, but Morrigan ignored him.

"Leave him alone, Morrigan," sighed Zatta. Morrigan moved away from the Wardens as she continued to chortle to herself. They stood in silence and studied each other for a time. It was the first time that Alistair was able to truly appreciate her without a task or battle taking precedence. Over the last few days they'd all been quiet and lost in their own thoughts, but now he looked at his fellow Warden fully.

She was beautiful, in a violent sort of way, with her short blond hair that was cut roughly and unevenly, leaving the longer sections pulled back randomly across her head to keep them from falling in her eyes. Her casteless tattoo consisted of three geometric shapes in dark brown ink – an open square on her right cheek, a rectangle on her left, and a smaller rectangle above her eye, almost meeting her hairline. Even tired as she was, her stance radiated energy and even in her silent moments, he knew that Zatta was always fully aware of what was going on around her. Of course, being a dwarf she had the typical curvaceous figure of the stout folk, which made the tight leathers she wore, look like they'd been painted on her body. Alistair had always appreciated a fuller figure on a woman and he definitely appreciated hers.

Zatta watched bemused as the faint pink tinge on Alistair's cheeks blossomed into a red stain across his face and neck. Of course, she'd been checking him out, as well, but she was just better at hiding her lusty emotions than her partner. _Here we are – the last Grey Wardens – and we're too busy ogling each other to do our job._ She startled him by breaking the silence, "Well, I think for now we should head to Arl Eamon's. You said you know him and that means he'll be more likely to help us. I say we go where we know we'll find allies before dealing with the treaties."

She looked at him for confirmation, but Alistair was too embarrassed to meet her gaze. "Yes, of course, ahem…sounds good. Lead on." Jerking her head at Morrigan the witch fell in step behind the Wardens as they headed into the village.

"Done ogling your commander, Alistair," hissed the evil witch. Alistair only growled indistinctly as he made his way to the Chanter's board to flee further humiliation. Zatta pretended that she hadn't heard for his sake and tried to hide the pleased smile that danced across her face.

After accepting some of the posts on the board for much-needed coin, the trio headed into the local tavern for a drink and to sell some unnecessary equipment before making their way to Redcliffe. "Well, well, it looks like the Maker favors us after all."

"Uh oh. Loghain's men."

A priest sauntered over to break up the tension. "Gentlemen, please – "

"It's alright," interrupted Zatta as she unsheathed her daggers. "It seems he's looking for a fight and I'm happy to oblige." She felt the rush of power behind her as Morrigan gripped her staff and heard Alistair adjust his stance to her left. The townspeople quickly moved out of the way of the deadly steel that was suddenly flashing throughout the tavern. Zatta and the leader's blades met fiercely while Morrigan focused on taking out the archers along the wall and Alistair pummeled the second-in-command until he slumped to the ground. Zatta stepped behind the commander and began to backstab furiously, but it wasn't until Alistair turned his attention to him with his shield bloodied and hatred burning in his eyes that the commander backed down.

"I yield! I yield!"

"Good, we can all stop fighting now," said the priest. Zatta saw her wipe a couple of daggers on one of the dead archer's tunic. _Hmmm, resourceful._

"Take a message to Loghain. Tell him the Grey Wardens know what really happened. Now get out before I change my mind."

"Yes, I'll tell him!" The commander and only a couple of his men limped out the tavern entrance. Zatta signaled the bartender for a drink and he quickly laid out a few ales on a back table. Wearily, she slumped onto a chair and signaled the priest to join them.

"So, where does a priest learn to fight like that?" The woman smirked and grabbed a tankard, quickly raising it in silent toast, before taking a long swallow. Zatta followed suit, relishing the feel of the cool ale as it slid down her throat, never taking her eyes from the curious Chantry sister.

"I wasn't always a sister. Forgive me, my name is Leliana." Zatta nodded, but remained silent, so Leliana continued. "I overheard those men earlier saying they were looking for a Grey Warden – you. I'm coming with you."

Alistair gave the woman his famous eyebrow in question and he glanced at Zatta only to find that she was studying the priest with interest and he suppressed a groan. He reached for a mug and quickly downed half the ale to numb the headache he felt coming on. Morrigan was glaring at the priest; arms crossed, and didn't even glance at the annoying templar when he reached for her mug.

"Why do you want to come with me? You may be good in a fight, but I don't need a priest. None of us are very religious," smirked Zatta. Leliana smiled back, completely unruffled.

"The Maker told me to join you." It was Zatta's turn to quirk an eyebrow questioningly in sync with Alistair spewing ale across the table. Leliana stammered uncertainly. "I know…it sounds completely insane, but it's true!"

"More crazy? I thought we were all full up," muttered Alistair.

"Look at these people – most of them won't live to see the end of the Blight. But you, what you are meant to do…I cannot simply sit by and watch the Blight devour everything. Please, let me join your company. I swear that I will not preach, but I will fight by your side in your quest to stop the encroaching darkness."

The dwarf glanced around the tavern knowing that Leliana was right. Nodding thoughtfully, she faced the priest and held out her hand. "Very well. I won't turn away help when it is offered."

"Your skull must be cracked worse than Mother thought," mumbled Morrigan. Zatta ignored the jibe and quickly downed the rest of her ale before hopping off the chair and heading towards the man with a stash of goods in a trunk.

"Looking to buy something?" Zatta nodded and began to rifle through his goods, picking out all of his health and lyrium potions, as well as a few poison recipes that looked interesting. She came across a nice set of studded leathers and traded some of her useless items for them – Leliana couldn't fight in a Chantry robe; she'd have to get some leathers for herself later. At the bottom of the trunk she discovered a wicked looking dagger and pulled it out reverently.

"She's called 'Thorn of the Dead Gods.' It's yours for two sovereigns." Zatta reached into her pack and pulled out the Aeducan mace Duncan gave her when he'd conscripted her. She closed her eyes and said another prayer to the Ancestors for Duncan and hoped that wherever he was, he would understand and forgive her. Honey eyes watched from across the room as it felt like a blade was piercing his heart.

Having steeled herself she turned to Barlin and offered him the heirloom mace. "One sovereign and a genuine Aeducan mace that has belonged to the noble house Aeducan for countless centuries." Barlin could see how much it cut the young dwarf to offer him such a treasure and it was a fine weapon…one he might decide not to sell and keep for personal use.

"Deal." Zatta quickly passed him the mace and packed up her new loot. With a curt nod, she gathered her companions and left fifty silver on the table to cover the damages to the inn, and swiftly exited the building. Once outside Zatta shoved the pack at Alistair and quickly switched one of her plain daggers for Thorn and passed the old blade to Leliana, who nodded her thanks. As she closed the pack and made to take it back from the templar, his large hands stopped her and with a soft smile he slung it over his shoulder.

She turned quickly on her heel and walked away, leaving the man flustered and confused, but she wasn't quick enough to hide her watery eyes from Leliana. Morrigan was following after their leader and it gave the priest a moment with the templar. "She's not angry, Alistair." He glanced at her quizzically and Leliana smiled gently. "She's a proud woman and she doesn't like others to see when she hurts." With a light pat on his shoulder, Leliana followed the others and left Alistair to take up the rear and process the inner workings of a woman's mind.

Unfortunately, he didn't have long to ponder when they were met by an angry mob that wanted to kill them for the bounty. It was a senseless slaughtering of innocent, desperate people, and the only one who probably took any pleasure out of it was the witch. Zatta didn't even stay to loot their bodies – they probably only owned the clothes on their backs. By the time they reached the bridge that lead to the Bannorn, Zatta was a tightly coiled spring of traitorous emotions. They found a couple of dwarf merchants being terrorized by darkspawn and it was just the excuse Zatta needed to let go.

With a wild cry of rage, she hurled herself into the war band and began hacking and slashing everything in her line of sight. Her guilt and self-loathing morphed into a primal rage that struck terror into darkspawn and companion alike. She could feel them in her mind…the empty spaces cloaked in darkness that denoted darkspawn to her new Warden senses and it brought back memories from her nightmare.

_Join usssssss_

"AMGARRAK!" With a final thrust of her dagger Zatta impaled the last archer on her blade and viciously sliced through its neck with Thorn. As the body twitched and slid off her blade she was coated in the arterial spray and when she turned to face her companions the only comparison Alistair could make was that she resembled an ancient goddess of war, standing triumphant among the dead. Leliana pulled out a cloth for Zatta to wipe off her face, but she waved her away and walked towards the two merchants.

"Mighty timely arrival there, my friend. Name's Bodahn Feddic, merchant and entrepreneur. This here's my son, Sandal – say hello, my boy."

"Hello," responded the youngster in the way of those who were simple.

"Road's mighty dangerous, mind if I ask where you're going, maybe we're headed the same way?" Zatta could tell he didn't truly trust her with her casteless brand and covered in darkspawn blood from head to toe.

Zatta shook her head. "I doubt you want to travel with a Grey Warden."

Bodahn's eyebrows touched his hairline. "Grey Warden! My, that does rather explain a lot…no offense, but I suspect that there is more excitement on your path than my boy and I can handle. Allow me to bid you farewell and safe travels, however." Zatta nodded and smiled warmly at the lad's exuberant goodbye. As she turned to leave, something glinted in the sun, buried underneath the ruins of a wooden crate. Her Duster instincts took over and as she walked past she quickly scooped up the small statue and shoved it in the top of her boot.

She caught up with the others, who were finished looting the darkspawn of the coin they would no longer need. With a weary smile she indicated her blood soaked leathers. "Let's find a nice campsite, near some water, so I can stop squealching with every step, yes?" They all laughed at that and agreed heartily at the idea of a nice bath as the quartet pressed into the Bannorn and hopefully, their first ally in the war against Loghain and darkspawn.


	4. Chapter 4

They finally found a nice campsite and Leliana and Alistair began pitching the tents, while Zatta apologized and headed toward the stream not far behind their camp to wash the congealed blood from her person. With some difficulty she was able to remove her leather armor and heaped it unceremoniously on the bank, along with her small clothes.

Holding her breath, Zatta plunged into the freezing water and began to scrub furiously at her skin. Moving into the more shallow area of the stream she leaned against an outcropping of the bank to give her better support as she worked the thick, red smears off her skin. When her skin was pink from the cold and scrubbing, but free of any obvious blood she ducked her head underwater and gave her hair a cursory wash. Without soap there was only so much she could do, but she was satisfied that most of the grime from travel was gone.

As she moved to reach for her filthy undergarments, Zatta realized she'd left her pack in the camp and didn't have a spare set of small clothes to change into after she washed the others. "Stone forsake me!"

She heard a familiar laugh as Morrigan melted out of the shadows, carrying her pack. "I saw this at the camp and knew you would need it. I was surprised how long it took you to realize you were missing it."

Zatta glared at the woman. "Do you often enjoy watching women bathe?"

Morrigan doubled over with laughter. "My dear Warden, have no fear, I have no interest in anyone in this party. Too many women and not enough real men, I'm afraid." The witch laid the pack within arm's reach of the dwarf in the water and then moved back to give the semblance of privacy. "I only came to say…I appreciate your willingness to bring me along. I know you do not trust me, but I'm glad you have given me the opportunity to leave the Wilds." The witch wouldn't meet her eyes as she spoke and it made Zatta uneasy, but she acknowledged the woman's words.

"You're welcome, Morrigan. Thank you for bringing my pack." The witch nodded and turned on silent feet, disappearing back into the shadows of the tree line. Reaching into the bag, Zatta made sure she had a spare set of small clothes before dunking the filthy ones in the water and scrubbing them against the rocks. When the cloth almost resembled the soft blue of the fabric she laid them briefly on the grass so she could scramble out of the stream and pull her dry underwear on.

The dwarf slung her pack across her shoulder and kept her filthy armor at arms length to prevent any of the blood and dirt to rub against her freshly laundered small clothes in her other hand. Without a thought for modesty, Zatta strolled nonchalantly into camp, pausing for a moment to ask Leliana which tent was hers. Alistair nearly swallowed his tongue to see so much naked womanly flesh and then turned a hundred shades of red in shame for ogling his fellow Warden. In desperation he disappeared into his tent and grabbed his own pack so he could make a quick getaway to the stream. Cold water, that's what he needed.

Zatta re-emerged from her tent wearing a blousy under tunic and loose cotton breeches so she could more comfortably sit and clean her messy armor. Leliana passed her a bowl of rabbit stew and it was only then that the dwarf noticed Alistair's absence. "Where's Alistair," she asked with a faint frown.

Leliana giggled like a schoolgirl. "Oh, your nudity scared him away." Zatta stared at her, open mouthed, which only made the priest laugh harder. "I think he's a virgin. You know, raised in the Chantry…"

"Ancestors! I didn't realize…I'm just so used to Dust Town where everyone uses sex to move up in the castes…poor Alistair."

Leliana became serious. "Do you want to talk about it?" Zatta looked at her in surprise.

"What about? Oh, you mean, bore you with stories of growing up casteless in Orzammar and my alcoholic mother or my noble hunter sister, trying to raise our place in society by selling what's between her legs?" She laughed hollowly. "No, Leliana, I don't think you want to know what I've had to do to survive. Let's just say that I don't miss Orzammar and I dread going back."

Zatta quickly ate the stew before it got too cold, even though she'd lost her appetite. With a shy smile she thanked Leliana for the stew and gladly listened to the stories of Orlais the former priest told while she scrubbed her leathers. As she finished cleaning each piece the redhead would dry them with a cloth and apply a thin layer of oil to keep them supple. Zatta appreciated the help and the company, especially since she'd inadvertently scared off her male companion.

The moon was high in the night sky and Alistair had still not returned to camp when Zatta bid her new friend good night. As she crawled under the thick woolen blanket inside her tent she could only hope for a dreamless sleep as the ability to stay awake left her. Not long after she retired, Alistair trudged wearily into camp, and avoided Leliana's eyes as he poured himself a heaping bowl of stew.

"You didn't have to wait for her to leave, you know." He hurrumphed and kept eating. "She was preoccupied while you were away; I think she wanted to talk to you about something." Alistair glanced at her sharply and Leliana backed off. "I'm sorry, but that's what I think. Don't forget to bank the fire before you retire." He nodded quickly in reply as Leliana flounced off to bed, leaving him to inhale the rest of his stew and bank the fire before collapsing from exhaustion in his own tent.

* * *

_Join us, Sister. You belong to the dark now. There are no Ancestors – we are older than the Stone._

_Join us…_

_The compulsion to obey the voice was so strong. It was hard to resist or deny that part of her wanted to stay in the Deep. Part of her wanted to become their new Queen. Rica had always been the pretty one, the desirable one, and she'd been the good-for-nothing second daughter when her Mother wanted a son. A son that would have raised them to Merchant Caste. But once her unknown father realized that he had a daughter, he ran for the surface and abandoned his family to rot in Dust Town. She never belonged anywhere._

_You belong with us, Sister. We will cherish you…forever._

_Another flash of the creature with Rica's face interrupted the voices as hundreds of darkspawn exploded from her bloated body and she screamed._

"RICA!" Zatta barely made it outside her tent and a few feet away before she threw up everything she ate only hours before. When she'd purged her stomach, she rolled onto her side and sobbed bitterly. "Rica, I'm so sorry. I never meant to leave you behind. I hope you're still alive. I hope your patron came through for you, sister. Ancestors forgive me for being a rotten Duster!"

She didn't even register the concerned whispers or feel Leliana's gentle touch as she was led back to her tent where a warm bowl of water waited. Morrigan popped her head inside the tent to pass Leliana a bundle of herbs and cloth and then disappeared. Zatta began to come around when she felt the gentle scrape of damp fabric rubbing the sick off her face.

Her eyes widened in surprise and shame, but Leliana only smiled softly and passed her a sprig of mint to chew on and rid her mouth of the aftertaste of bile. "I'm going to boil these into a tea for you," nodding toward the bundle. "They will help you sleep without dreams, yes?" Zatta blew out a soft sigh of relief and nodded.

"While I'm doing that, I suggest you talk about what's bothering you. I'm sure it's a Grey Warden thing and you have a very upset fellow Warden outside who would probably like to help." The redhead looked meaningfully at the blond woman. Zatta refused to meet her eye, but she nodded grudgingly. "Good, then I'll send him in."

Before Zatta could respond, Alistair was outside her tent clearing his throat to announce his presence. "Come in." He peeked his head through the tent flap uncertainly and seemed relieved to see her still clothed as he entered the small space. He, too, was wearing a long under tunic and cotton breeches, but his tunic was unlaced at the throat and revealed more of his golden skin to the fair dwarf.

"I'm sorry, Zatta," he began as he sat down and tried to get comfortable in the cramped quarters. "I neglected to warn you about how often the dreams would come. I guess I've gotten used to them, but I remember how scary they were for me."

Zatta pulled her knees up to her chin and shook her head slightly. "I'm not sure if they're Grey Warden dreams. I-I never told you how I was conscripted or what Dust Town was like…" She laughed lightly in hopes of distracting him. "I'm sure I just have too much on my mind. I'll be fine – especially after the tea Leliana is brewing." She stood up quickly and bolted out of the tent to meet with the other woman at the fire.

Leliana glanced from her to the frustrated man exiting her tent and sighed heavily. "Is the tea ready?" Leliana located a clean mug and poured the dark liquid into it. Zatta took it with care and sat by the fire sipping the foliage flavored drink until it cooled enough to plug her nose and down the rest. "Tell Morrigan she is never allowed to brew large quantities of tea," she joked as she passed the mug back to Leliana before disappearing into her tent once more.

Whatever herbs Morrigan gave Leliana, they were strong and taking effect almost immediately. As sleep overcame her again, she barely registered the whispers outside her cocoon.

Daylight came too soon, but they had a job to do. Zatta was grateful to her companions for their aid the night before and that they let her grab a couple extra hours of sleep, so she wouldn't be falling asleep on her feet. She was even more grateful that none of them mentioned the previous night. Stone forsake her foolish pride! She knew she should have talked to Alistair about her dreams; about Rica and the archdemon, but she was too afraid of looking weak. _Yeah, like throwing up after a scary dream and being catered to, isn't weak. _

The next three days passed in much the same way. They would rise early and begin a quick march to Redcliffe and it became routine for Zatta to drink the dreamless concoction in the evening. They finally reached the bridge leading into the village on the fourth day and Zatta noticed Alistair was acting strangely.

"Um, listen, can we stop for a moment? I have to tell you something I should probably have told you earlier."

Leliana and Morrigan moved around them and crossed the bridge while the Wardens talked amongst themselves. "Okay, what's on your mind?"

"Remember when I said I knew Arl Eamon?" Zatta nodded encouragingly. "I'm a bastard! My mother was a serving girl in Redcliffe castle and she died when I was very young, but Arl Eamon took me in. The reason he did that was because…well, my father was King Maric, which made Cailan my half-brother, I suppose." Alistair paused long enough to breathe.

"WHAT?!" Leliana and Morrigan both glanced at the two Wardens in surprise from across the bridge.

"I-I would have told you sooner, but it never meant anything to me! None of the other Wardens knew, except for Duncan, and he kept me out of the fighting because of it." Zatta continued to fume silently. "I guess part of me liked you not knowing." Her dark eyes flashed dangerously, but Alistair boldly continued. "People treat me differently when they find out. I become the bastard prince, instead of just, me. I wanted you to see me for who I am, not for my accidental parentage."

The younger woman calmed slightly at his words. "Doesn't this make you the heir to the throne, then?" As the words left her mouth, her heart lurched when the reality slapped her in the face. Not only was he a human and she a dwarf, but now he was royalty and she was a worthless Duster. She would have to kill the feelings she harbored for the man in front of her, at all costs.

"No! If there's an heir to be found, it's Arl Eamon. Cailan was his nephew and he's very popular with the people. I certainly don't want to be King."

Alistair saw the sadness swimming in her eyes as she replied; "You may not have a choice in the matter. But I understand why you didn't tell me."

"Good. So, can we go back to pretending I'm some…nobody who was too lucky to die with the rest of the Grey Wardens?"

"And what does that make me? Chopped nug livers?"

His honey eyes softened. "The reason I believe that we can make things right." He turned quickly before he overstepped his bounds and Zatta followed a few paces behind as she tried to process the information. As the group was crossing the second bridge into Redcliffe a local from the village met them, breathless and afraid.

"I thought I saw travelers! Have you come to help us?" Alistair and Zatta shared a quick glance.

"Help you how? We came to see Arl Eamon."

"Has nobody out there heard? Evil…things attack the village and the Arl is sick, we haven't seen anyone from the castle in days – they could be dead for all we know!"

"What things, man," demanded Alistair.

"I-I don't know. Bann Teagan is here, maybe you should speak to him."

"Teagan? The Arl's brother, he's here?"

The villager nodded. "He's in the Chantry. I'll take you to him, it's not far." Zatta glanced at Alistair as they followed the villager, and she took note of the stiffness in his shoulders, the distracted way he nibbled his bottom lip. The civil war had just begun and the battle against the Blight wasn't even off the ground, and she'd already lost him as the new heir-apparent.


	5. Chapter 5

After being introduced to Bann Teagan and learning more about what was attacking the village, Zatta reluctantly agreed to aid the Redcliffe militia in eradicating the problem. According to Morrigan, the creatures sounded like undead that were being controlled by a demon – information they didn't share with Teagan. It also required all of her persuasive charm (some would call it brutal intimidation) to force the blacksmith to do his job…where all humans such selfish bastards?

Leliana discovered some oil in the abandoned store, which they explained to Ser Perth might slow down the monsters. Ser Perth also explained that the Revered Mother in the Chantry had some amulets the men required to inspire their faith, so Zatta sent Alistair to charm them from her, since she knew it would be impossible to control her eye-rolling if she went. After all the boot-licking, Zatta trudged towards the local tavern for a pint or two before the battle – and ended up buying all the militia's drinks, as well.

By this time, Morrigan was petulantly ignoring her for agreeing to fight such a pointless battle and Zatta didn't blame her. Even she felt like this endeavor was foolish, but it was the only way to reach the castle and find out if they still had allies in Redcliffe. Leliana was singing one of her bawdy minstrel tunes to rally the spirits of the militia and the knights. It was a lively scene as the increasingly drunk men joined the chorus and took turns spinning the barmaid around the floor. Zatta, Teagan, and Alistair sat in the back of the tavern and let them have this moment.

Plucking up her courage and schooling her face into a well-practiced mask of nonchalance, Zatta turned to Alistair, arm outstretched. "Atrast tunsha, salroka." Alistair gripped her forearm tightly and stared into her large, dark eyes with intensity, trying to convey to his companion all the things that went unsaid between them.

"Atrast tunsha, Zatta." Giving him a curt nod, he reluctantly released her arm and she turned to Bann Teagan to repeat the customary words, but left out "salroka."

"Atrast tunsha. May the Ancestors favor your blades in battle." She was a little surprised by his added formalities, but then realized that dealing with dwarven ambassadors Teagan would surely have learned a thing or two. Zatta merely inclined her head in polite acknowledgment of his words and hoped that he didn't realize that as a casteless the Ancestors hated her already.

It didn't escape Teagan's notice how territorial Alistair's body language became when he responded to the woman between them. Alistair worked his jaw back and forth and hid his clenched fist behind his tankard, but Teagan picked up the signals, loud and clear.

"Gentlemen, excuse me. I'll meet you both on the field of battle, but for now I require some time alone." Alistair stood quickly to allow her to move past him and he reached out unconsciously for her hand as she slid around him. She paused and looked at him curiously and before he could lose his nerve, he bowed low to her and raised her calloused fingers to his soft, dry lips and gently brushed them across her knuckles. Zatta gasped at the shock that resonated throughout her body at the contact and saw it reflected back at her in the fiery orbs that threatened to set her alight in full-view of the village.

Her tongue darted out to wet her suddenly dry lips, sending tremors through Alistair's body and testing his self-control, as she whispered, "I must go." Her small hand slid out of his and she fled the tavern. Teagan slapped him on the back when he straightened, in silent congratulations and commiseration, and signaled Lloyd for another round.

Zatta desperately needed a quiet place to think. The mill, the tavern, and the Chantry were out and the lake made her nervous with all that water. Her feet made the decision for her and led her to the empty store. Once inside she slid to the floor and prayed to any of the Ancestors that might still favor her to let her survive tonight's battle and find a way to keep the man she had no right to desire. She had meant to let him go and she knew that eventually she would still have to, but after what happened Zatta couldn't help being a little selfish herself.

"I promise to let him go when the time comes, but please Ancestors, let me have this one thing. You have seen to bless me with the ability to kill everything I come across and I thank you for it, but I've never been Rica who could charm any man just by looking at them. I'm sure to die during the Blight – let me just have this. Let me have him."

She continued to pray for battle prowess and stamina to get through the night until a soft knock on the door halted her words. "Come in." Zatta was relieved to see Leliana enter instead of the one person she didn't think she could function around at the moment.

"I thought you said dwarves weren't religious?"

Zatta laughed. "Most aren't, but some seem to have a stronger connection to the Ancestors and revere them more than dwarven society would consider proper. I'm not even supposed to pray or give offerings since I'm casteless." Leliana seemed confused by the idea, so Zatta continued. "I was born the lowest of the low in Orzammar – casteless. It's believed that the casteless are rejected by the Ancestors and can never have their favor, so it's pointless for me to pray for their aid. They would never heed the begging of a Duster, like me, but I do it anyway because I never had anyone, except my sister growing up. Praying to the Ancestors helped me not feel alone…and I feel that they do favor me somewhat or they wouldn't have let me win the Proving."

"But I thought Provings…"

"Were for the Warrior caste?" Leliana nodded. "They are…it's a long story, but it's part of how I met Duncan and was conscripted into the Grey Wardens, instead of being sent into the Deep Roads to die or fight with the Legion of the Dead."

Leliana smiled thoughtfully. "It seems your Ancestors don't hate you, Zatta, or you wouldn't have won the Proving and put on the path of ending the Blight. This is a noble cause you are on and not one your Ancestors would have granted to just anyone, I'm sure." Zatta smiled to hear from someone else that it was possible the Ancestors had _chosen_ her for this – it made her feel less like a charlatan regarding her prayers.

"Come, its nearly time and we need both of the Grey Wardens standing vigil at the mill with the knights. I think everyone in the village has said all they can in their prayers tonight." The women arrived at the mill with just enough time to spare before battle.

"Warden, it is good to have you here. The knights are ready to fight at your command."

"Thank you, Ser Perth. Once the creatures begin to come down the hill, we'll set the bastards on fire and wait for them to come to us. No heroics in the flames now, men! I'm sure the Arl would like all of his knights present here tonight to greet him in the castle." The knights chuckled and nodded their agreement. "All other orders you will take from Ser Perth, as usual, since he is more knowledgeable about your individual strengths and weaknesses." Ser Perth bowed slightly at the Warden's wise battle tactics.

Suddenly, green mist began pouring out of the castle and towards the village. The non-militia villagers quickly sealed themselves inside the Chantry as everyone else took their positions. As she readied her daggers, she heard him take his place at her side and her heart fluttered in her chest, but she pushed the feeling aside so she could focus on the task at hand.

When the first decaying corpse emerged from the mist, everyone paused for a moment to reconcile the gruesome sight with their minds. They reeked of death, and some of the undead were so new, that chunks of skin and muscle were still falling off the skeletal frame as they shambled across the field. Even more terrifying was the knowledge that these were people that the villagers had once known – they were unrecognizable now and they hungered for human flesh, but only days ago these had been friends and family to the townsfolk.

Alistair's voice boomed to her left, "Men! Tonight we avenge Redcliffe!" Zatta was grateful for his rallying cry as renewed vigor and determination filled them. Morrigan whispered a few words to strengthen the fire-protection shield on the four of them as they barreled right into the flames. Her dagger slid effortlessly into the decaying flesh with a horrible sucking sound and Zatta nearly screamed in horror. Even with her blade buried to the hilt between its ribs; it did nothing to stop the creature.

"Ancestors! Take their heads – it's the only way to kill them!" She could hear the knights crying out to their god as more of them poured out of the castle and sidestepped the group fighting in the flames. Morrigan froze one of the creatures that was poised to send her flying with its shield and Zatta quickly cut the head from the walking nightmare. They continued to fight mercilessly, relentlessly, desperately – even taking the fight to the center of the village before all the corpses were crumpled on the ground. Without magic to keep them composed they began rotting rapidly to catch up to their actual level of decomposition.

Bann Teagan wasted no time. Gathering the remaining men in the militia he ordered that rafts be assembled from anything they could find and doused in pitch. Then all of the corpses were laid on the makeshift pyres and secured so that when they were set on fire, nothing would escape incineration.

Dawn finally broke over the beleaguered village and it's people, but it was a hollow victory. Teagan and the Revered Mother organized a formal ceremony to thank the group for their help in saving Redcliffe, but glancing around the small gathering Zatta could only feel the heavy weight of guilt. So many had been lost during the skirmish, while the other half of the village were still smoldering on pyres along the lakeside after being murdered and turned into puppets for a demon's amusement.

The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach only grew when Teagan rewarded her and the villagers cheered. "Brave" and "heroic" weren't words she would have chosen to describe herself to these poor people. She felt very unworthy of such praise and she knew that Alistair and Leliana shared it.

"Meet me up at the mill when you're ready. We must try to get into the castle." Zatta barely dipped her head in acknowledgment before the young Bann headed towards the mill. With a heavy sigh, she carefully wrapped the helmet in some spare cloth before shoving in the bottom of her pack. She knew she'd never wear it – it would always be a reminder of how miserably she'd failed this village and how they still thanked her for it.

"I-I need a moment, please," whispered the redhead before she fled into the Chantry to pray. Morrigan sniffed haughtily and headed in the direction of the lake, leaving Zatta and Alistair alone.

"Go, Alistair." He looked at her quizzically and she blew air out of her lungs forcefully. "Go inside. I'm sure you would like to pray, as well."

"Why would I want to do that?"

Zatta stared at him in surprise. "You _were_ raised in an abbey, right? This was your home for a time…I just thought…"

Alistair laughed softly. "Being surrounded by religion doesn't necessarily make a person religious, Zatta." He gazed at the people and the village with a sigh. "I admit there are elements of the Chantry's rituals that soothe a heavy heart, but its not enough to ease…this." He ran a shaky hand through his golden hair and jerked his head. "Walk with me."

Zatta walked alongside the handsome man as he weaved his way through the villagers, leading her to a large building offset behind the smithy. "This is where I began my apprenticeship as a groomsman." He chuckled at Zatta's confused expression. "A groomsman is someone who cares for the horses of lords or kings. Arl Eamon recognized my connection to them early on. It's hardly surprising since I slept in the stables. The horses became my only companions and we shared body heat in the depths of winter when my ragged blanket and straw weren't enough to keep the cold at bay."

As he spoke he ran his large, strong hands gently along the backs of the tall animals that Zatta now knew were horses. As he carefully swept their forelocks out of their eyes they nuzzled him in response – his touch just as soothing to them after the horrors of the night as they were to the lonely templar. "Eamon may have taken me in, but I slept among the hounds and the horses. I was treated just like any ward or brat given shelter by his betters, which meant that I was practically invisible. I never had any opportunity to mingle among the villagers and the few times I did I wasn't acknowledged by them, either."

He turned to face her then. "There were rumors that I was Eamon's bastard, obviously, and as such I was considered beneath most pious people. If I had stayed here, I would have been lucky to find a wife among the townspeople. Who would be willing to let their daughter marry the unwanted bastard of their lord? They want their girls to marry up, not down." Zatta just listened as more pieces of Alistair's past fell into place finally giving her a more complete picture of him.

"Lady Isolde believed the rumors and she eventually convinced Eamon to send me to the Chantry. I remember he came to see me in the stables, late in the evening, to tell me that I would be leaving – that night. There were two Templars standing in full-plate behind him and all I could feel was betrayal. I can't say that he ever showed me any affection, but it was all I'd known and I felt unwanted." Alistair scowled at the memory. "I threw my mother's amulet against the wall that I wore and it shattered. At the time I was too angry to really care, but later, on that long walk to Denerim I regretted that action more than anything. It was the only thing I owned that belonged to my real family."

Zatta touched him lightly on the forearm and he turned his sad honey eyes to her face. With a shaky smile and an awkward pat in return, Alistair cleared his throat. "Yes, well, now you know the whole story of my sad life. Its one reason I can't find it in myself to pray for them…or pray at all, really. I did appreciate the education and the discipline the Chantry offered, but I think I would have been happy as a groomsman." Without a backwards glance, he turned and walked out of the dim building and into the sunlight with a sad dwarf in tow.

They walked up the hill in contemplative silence. It was one thing she appreciated about him – they spent most of their time traveling without feeling pressured to fill the space with words. Of course, he could still be immature and goad the witch, but Morrigan was just as bad and it didn't hurt to have some humorous moments. No one said becoming a Grey Warden meant sucking all the fun out of life.

"Odd how quiet the castle looks from here. You'd think no one lived there at all." Teagan turned to them once they reached him beside the mill. "But I can delay no longer. I must get into the castle and see what is going on. There is a secret entrance in the mill that leads to the castle. I want you to come with me, Warden."

"Why didn't you mention this sooner," asked Zatta.

Teagan sighed heavily. "I was afraid you would choose to go to the castle over saving the village. I couldn't take that chance and leave all these people to die." Zatta nodded her understanding, but was prevented from saying anything further as Lady Isolde interrupted their discussion.

After questioning the reticent Arlessa without much success it was decided that Teagan would go to the castle with Isolde. "Please, give us a moment alone, Isolde. There are some things I must discuss with the Warden." She nodded and headed up the small rise to wait for the Bann by the gate. "I have no illusions about going with Isolde, but maybe I can distract whatever is at the castle so you can sneak in unnoticed. Take my signet ring – it will open the passage. Remember that Eamon is the priority; the rest of us are expendable."

Zatta shook her head slightly. "I will get you all out, I swear it." She had a healthy respect for Teagan and his sincere concern for the welfare of his family and the villagers. She had no plans to sacrifice him after all that.

Teagan smiled. "You're a good woman. The Maker smiled on us all when He sent you." He clapped Alistair on the back as he passed with a weary smile.

"We aren't really going to let him go with her? It seems so dangerous," asked Leliana. Zatta didn't know exactly when she'd rejoined the party, but she was glad to have her on their quest.

"There doesn't seem to be much choice. He's right – he'll be able to distract the demon and we can move more swiftly. But we aren't doing much to aid his cause standing here. Let's go." Her companions followed her lead as she ushered them into Ancestor's knew what.


End file.
